


In Deepest Devotion

by Schwoozie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Alexandria Safe-Zone, Bethyl Smut Week, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Facials, Grinding, Incest Play, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schwoozie/pseuds/Schwoozie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth wants to try something new in the bedroom. Daryl is more than happy to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Deepest Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by foxxxs-den's incredible [NSFW illustration](http://foxxxs-den.tumblr.com/post/136200072707/yaay-first-nsfw-post-i-am-so-embarrassed).
> 
> Hope you enjoy ;)

Daryl knows, when they talked it over, that the plan for this activity was to start out soft. Beth wanted it that way—says she loves the feeling of him growing hard in her hands, thickening and heating under her touch. It would give her more to react to, too—he can picture her eyes widening, mouth falling open, blush staining her face in only half-feigned wonder—

And there's the problem. Because he's a man, and he has a brain, and he's been thinking about how this would play out since the moment they decided on it.

It doesn't help that they decided to do this in their bedroom, on sheets ready for the wash. He can smell her, everywhere; smells the perfume he got for her on his last run, smells the familiar scent of her sweat, smells the two of them together from when he came across her thighs the night before.

He had been all ready to do laundry in the morning before Beth stopped him. Told him not to worry about it, they'd just get them all dirty again tonight anyway, then walked away with a squeeze and a wink. So he's thinking about that too. About her hand quick and strong on his cock through his jeans, of the shape of her ass as he followed it out the door. So now he's reclining here on dirty sheets, soaked with sweat and dried cum, no thoughts in his mind but those of her. What they've done. What they've decided to do.

He wonders if riling him up was part of her intentions, in the way she's orchestrated all this. Left him a few days to think about it, planned it for a night when everyone else would be at Deanna's weekly dinner party, so it doesn't matter how many times he makes her scream. Left him with nothing but the scent of her and the sweatpants on his legs, which became less than decent a long time ago.

He really shouldn't have to wonder at all.

She comes in wearing a pink nightdress. Nightdress—it's little more than a shirt, just long enough to skim her thighs, with a swooping neckline that leaves it dangling precariously off one shoulder. She has a braid on either side of her head, curving around her skull to meet at the back. The rest of her hair flows free, and she pushes a little of it away from her mouth as she bites her lip and looks at him.

She isn't going to spare him one bit.

“What's wrong, girl?” he croaks, half-way to saying to hell with this dumb game and yanking his pants down to take her now—but he promised. He agreed on this. They agreed on this together.

“I can't sleep, Daddy.”

He has to close his eyes, then. Close his eyes, because she's ruining him like this. Standing there practically in her underpants with that fake-innocent smile, looking at him like this, calling him _that_ —they talked about this but they never _talked_ about it. Not like this.

“Daddy?”

He opens his eyes and she's closer. Still only at the foot of the bed, but he can see her nipples from here—hard and poking through the cotton shirt, straining for his mouth, his hands. He imagines what she must feel like between her legs and his hand gets practically pruney thinking about it.

He doesn't have much experience with this kind of thing—not much experience with any of it, really—but he knows she likes this. She likes it a lot. And he'll do it for her.

“Can't sleep, huh,” he says, shifting against the pillows, holding back a smirk when her eyes follow the movements of his chest. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I just thought...” She shifts on her feet, linking her hands behind her back and biting her lip again and jesus, she looks like sin incarnate. “You said you'd teach me sometime. How to make you happy like Mommy used to.”

Daryl tightens his jaw, tries to control the jumping in his groin, because this is _sick_ , this is—this is his girl watching him in the light of their bedroom, clad in a baby nightie and calling him daddy and he hasn't even touched himself and he's on his way to being harder than he thinks he's ever been.

Sick goes out the window at times like these.

“I did say that,” he says, moving again, this time bending his knee a little to pull the sweatpants against his crotch. He has to clench his jaw again—both at the drag of fabric over his dick and the way it draws her eyes, how it _widens_ them—and before he can say anything else she's dropping to her hands and knees and crawling up the bed towards him, eyes locked on the dick under his pants.

“Is that it?” she asks, glancing up at him briefly before looking down, bringing her hands together underneath herself so her forearms press at the undersides of her breasts and he's treated to a _very_ nice view—the mounds of her breasts, the hinted pink of her nipples just hidden from sight. “Your... your...”

“'S a cock,” he says, face flooding red when she looks at him, blinking in concentration. “Dick, too. You call it what you want.”

“Cock,” she says, slow and experimental, and the way her lips stretch around that syllable makes him throb.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Why doncha take it out?” Beth looks up at his eyes, gazes at him, huge eyes gleaming, mouth slightly parted. Like she's asking permission. Like she's scared. “'S alright, girl. You can.”

Beth bites her lip, nods; and god if Daryl doesn't feel like he's running from a herd of walkers, the way his heart is thundering as she reaches for his waistband. She's touched him so many times, hundreds of times, and something of the play must be getting to him because it feels like his first time too.

He's supposed to be soft, but he can't tell if she's disappointed or not; she just keeps her eyes fixated on the tent of his pants, the fabric that quivers along with his cock when her wrist brushes against him.

“Oh,” she says. “It's hard.”

Daryl draws in a deep breath through his nose. He takes a few moments to think of what to say. “Yeah,” he says. “Means it likes ya.”

Beth looks at him, scrunching her nose. “Why's it like _me_?”

And Daryl smiles now. Because this is easier. These are words that run through his mind every damn day.

“You're so pretty,” he says. “Fuckin' prettiest girl in the whole fucking world.”

Beth giggles, rolling her eyes. “That ain't true, Daddy.”

“You callin' me a liar?”

That sobers her quickly. She shakes her head side to side, fast enough that her hair goes flying. “No, Daddy, no. I just mean...” She bites her lip again, reaching for his cock to drift her wrist against it again, and Daryl has to take down another sharp breath. “It really likes me?” she asks in a small voice.

And this makes Daryl frown, because it reminds him too much of when she first came here. Twenty pounds underweight and littered with scars old and new, she didn't let go of him all that first day—not until it came time to rinse away the road and she left him on the wrong side of the bathroom door. It surprised him. It shouldn't have surprised him—they're in fucking civilization again, for crying out loud; men ain't meant to be there when girls wash themselves.

But it had been like that on the road. Had to stay close. Stay close, stay safe. They never took their underwear off, but they knew what the other one looked like; Daryl knew how large her areolas are, how far up her abdomen her pubic hair climbs. She knew the shape of his dick—at least the limp state of it, cause nothing like sex has been on his mind for most of his 35 years and it wasn't about to start with the stench of walker rot in his nose.

But standing outside her bathroom door—hearing the long silence as she looked at herself, or closed her eyes, or whatever she did; then the rustle of clothing, the run of the shower; and it hit Daryl that she was here, and warm, and safe, and alive, and he went to his room and beat off for the first time in three years.

But she didn't know. She didn't know the hours he spent lying awake at night, half-hard cock in his hand as he thought about her; the days he watched her in the clothing Maggie found for her, looking almost like a farm girl again despite the distance in her eyes; and he couldn't meet her eyes. Couldn't let her know what she'd done to him, how she changed him; was scared what she'd think, to have his dirty eyes on her body.

But she didn't know. She counted her ribs, she told him later, and traced her scars, and she didn't know. And even the sight of him hard for her the first time wasn't enough to convince her she was worth wanting.

And they're at the beginning again. In a different place; with a Beth who never cut her wrist, a Daryl who knows what he's doing, ordering a girl around in bed; but it's still their beginning.

All he's ever wanted, it seems, is to take care of her.

She looks at him when his hand comes up to cup her face. A piece of her little girl mask drops as she looks at him, confused; she still looks confused as he draws her forward, close enough to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her lips. He means it to be a short kiss, a reassurance—but she falls into him, a soft gasp and a moan as she presses her lips to his, balances against his shoulders as he continues to cup her face. He's the one who ends it; drawing her away softly, staying close enough that she can feel the words roll from his tongue as he says them.

“Girl, it ain't never liked no one else.”

They're close enough that he feels her breath catch, too; catch, and hold, as she searches his face, trying to figure out if this is still a game or not. And he doesn't know. Maybe it's all been a game, and this is just them waking up.

“Go on, girl,” he murmurs. “Take it out.”

She continues to stare at him, eyes flicking between his, face warm between his palms; and then she nods, and pulls from his reach. He feels cold without her, and wonders if they ought to change this up; have her ride him instead of what they'd decided to do, ride him so he can hold her close and feel her heartbeat against his.

But this was her idea. All of it, hers. This is what she wanted, and damn him to hell if she ain't gonna get it.

She pulls the waistband down, and his cock pops out; not quite hard enough to hit her in the face, but rigid enough to bob, to dance through the air and draw her eye like a moth to flame. And there's still innocence there—but not the cheesy play of before. She's gone somewhere, he realizes. And it's his job to join her there.

“What d'you think?” he asks softly.

“You're beautiful,” she whispers, ignores his snort. She looks up at him for permission, and he nods; she reaches forward and wraps a hand around his shaft. His head falls back with a sigh as she squeezes him once, then releases the circle of her fingers to stroke the skin, trace a vein from the base to the tip. Explore; she's exploring in a way she never has, not really. It was him exploring her in the beginning; him laying her back on the pillows and touching her belly, her ribs, between her legs; spreading her wide and taking in her textures and scents, making her cum just to watch her wings flutter. He loved it so much, loved her so much, that became what they did; he let her get him off quickly and then she lay back and he took care of her.

When their eyes meet, her gaze is steady enough, serious enough, that he knows she's thinking the same. And when she smiles, soft, and takes him in her hand again, he's smiling too.

“Tell me what you want, Daddy.”

“Just do what you're doing,” he says, no matter how his mind is screaming at him to drag her mouth down, thrust up into her like he has so many times before. But this is for her. He's letting her do this for him.

She smiles; tilts her head; sits crosslegged with her nightshirt pulled down just enough that he can't tell if she's wearing panties or not. He considers asking her to take it off, but decides against it; he can have her tits later. For now, he likes how soft she looks, how casual; like he'd just been lying here and she came in and took his cock in hand as easily as she might pick up a book.

“You're so warm,” she says, giving him a stroke low on his shaft, rubbing her thumb against the underside until he's squirming. “That feels good?”

“You know it does, girl.”

“I don't know,” she says, eyebrows furrowed, mouth pursed into a pout. “I've never done this before, _remember_?”

 _I've never done this before either, girl_ , he thinks.

“It does. God, it does.” He leans his head back again; sighs as she takes his balls in her hand, rolls him gently, drifts her fingertips along the backs of them until he shivers. Then she's working back up his cock in one long, slow drift, and when he looks he sees her with her head down close, watching how the skin stretches with her motions.

She's reached the head now, and he tightens his stomach muscles as she rubs at his foreskin; pulls it aside and licks her lips at how the spongy flesh glimmers, the pearl of liquid forming before her eyes. Daryl buries his fingers in the sheets at his sides as she swipes a thumb across his slit, making the pearl break and tumble, splashing and spreading across his skin.

“You don't look like I've seen in pictures,” she says.

Daryl raises his eyebrows. “The fuck kind of pictures you been looking at?”

“My brother had some,” she says softly, and once again he wonders where in her head she is. “Under his bed. Magazines. Lots'a naked women, but some men too. They didn't look like this.”

“They were cut,” he says. “Got it done when they were babies. That bit you're playing with, they don't have that.”

“Why?” she asks, looking up at him, round eyes curious.

He snorts a laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “Fuck if I know.”

“Daddy,” she says, frowning; she squeezes down where she holds him, just below the head, and he has to concentrate to keep from bucking his hips. “You aren't supposed to use those bad words.”

He snorts again, leaning forward so her knuckles bump up against his abdomen. He gets his face close to her, close enough that he expects her to lean back; but she stays, moving nothing but her thumb against the side of his dick, giving little tugs to his foreskin that send sparks through his entire cock.

“I'll use whatever words I fucking _want_ to,” he says. She breathes out and he feels it on his face, warm and sweet. He raises a thumb and presses it to the corner of her mouth; strokes her gently, feels the change in texture from her lips to her cheek. “Just the two of us here, yeah? You say what you wanna say.”

“I can say anything?” she asks, voice small, a little breathless. She swipes her thumb across his head again, more slowly, and this time he can't hold in his shudder. She doesn't react to it, though; continues looking at him, barely blinking, waiting for his answer.

“Anything, baby,” he says, holding her cheek, kissing her softly.

“Alright,” she says. “Well, I...”

He cocks his head, waits. “Yeah?”

And she blushes. She actually blushes, a pink tinge flooding her face and disappearing down her nightshirt, and she'll definitely have to lose that soon.

“I want...” she whispers. She tightens her grip on his cock; watches as his whole body tenses, how his breath catches, how his nostrils flare. She leans in, lowers her voice even further when she speaks. “I wanna taste you, Daddy,” she whispers. “I wanna taste your cock.”

“Alright, honey,” he whispers, kissing her again but this time hot, deep, slow, and she responds in kind, tongue tangling with his as moans drip from her throat, her hand moving almost mindlessly on his dick until he grabs her wrist, holds her still. He pulls back and looks at her and her eyes are nearly black. “Taste my cock, girl, c'mon.”

And she's slithering down—practically _slithering_ , the way she maneuvers from his grasp, keeping hold of his dick even as she throws a leg over his calf and settles with her cunt lips hugging him tight.

No panties, then.

“Christ, girl,” he whispers.

“I'm sorry I'm so messy,” she says, rocking herself against him a little, stroking in time, mouth falling open a little as his leg hair catches her clit. “I just–, I just can't help it—“

“It's alright, christ, it's alright,” he says, leaning back against the pillows as she _glides_ down his leg, dragging her cunt across every inch until she's panting as hard as he is.

Still holding his dick, she looks down and lifts her night shirt. Daryl groans at the sight; her lips spread across a width wider than his dick, her little clit almost visible, it's so swollen. She's left a trail of wet down his leg and she traces it with her finger, and he's never known his shin to be an erogenous zone but he swears he could come from that alone.

“I'm like a snail, Daddy,” she says, in a tone that aims for delight but comes out too low, too hungry, and he knows she's getting impatient.

Not to say he isn't.

“You ain't no fucking snail,” he growls. Her head jerks up at his tone, eyes wide in something like fright. “Get that shirt off, I want those tits.”

She nods, humming madly like the sound is a vibration from her very core, and doesn't even pretend to be ashamed when she tosses the shirt over her head, letting go of his cock for only as long as it takes to get her arm out. Then she's back, her hand is back, soft and warm and stroking him with confidence, breasts jiggling with the enthusiasm of her movements, other hand braced on his thigh and tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrates. Daryl groans, wants to throw his head back but can't bear to turn away from this sight: his girl, his _girl_ , pale and slim and with the most delicious little titties, hips swelling towards the strong legs that give her leverage to roll against him, grind against him, work her pussy muscles as she rocks them both.

“Daddy, it feels–“

“Tell me how it feels,” Daryl rasps.

“God,” she whispers, throwing her head back and exposing the whole line of her throat, hair tossing around her shoulders. Daryl meets one of her grinds with a jerk of his leg and her eyes fly open, mouth dropping into a gorgeous little 'o.'

“You forget your words or something?” Daryl asks, struggling to sound more together than he is. Her hand has lost some rhythm as she chases her own pleasure but she's still working him, glide easier now that he's practically dripping. “You tell me how it feels girl or you get none'a it.”

“It feels _amazing_ ,” she bursts out, practically babbling. “God, I feel you... something's happening, Daddy, I dunno–“

“Touch yourself, girl,” he whispers. “C'mon, I gotta do everything?”

She bites her lip, shakes her head no; and as he watches she picks her hand off his thigh and slips it between her legs.

“Oh,” she groans, in a voice far too adult but he'll let it slide; he isn't stopping this for the world.

Miles and miles of pink skin. Tits dancing before his eyes like they ought to be trailing ribbons. Face flushed and chest flushed and thighs rubbed red from the friction against his leg hair, stomach flat and shuddering above her fingers as she works herself, catching the parts of her clit his leg can't, other hand so small but so hot on his dick–

And he puts his hand on her thigh and she meets his eyes and he sees the exact moment she falls apart.

“Oh!” she sounds, half a groan and half a cry, building in pitch as she remembers what she's supposed to be until it ends in a curled off whine that shivers through his whole body. Her torso rocks with shudders, and he feels her thighs trembling as they struggle to keep her upright.

They fail, and she slumps, hand falling from his dick to his stomach as her head drops to his chest, breaths coming slow and shuddery. Daryl closes his eyes, puts away the throb in his dick to breathe in the scent of her hair and her release, feel it trickling down the sides of his shin.

“Daddy,” she whispers. “Oh Daddy, oh my _god_ –“

“I know girl, I know,” he murmurs, stroking her hair and holding her to him, the puffs of her breath rolling down his bare chest. Her pussy is still spasming against his leg, and her hips jump a little as he shifts; with his free hand he guides her off of him so she can escape the stimulation, kneeling on the bed by his knees.

“Daddy...” She lifts her head, and Daryl's breath catches at the sight: her cheeks flushed red, entire face slack and sated, eyelids fluttering as the aftershocks roll through her. She looks at him heavy-lidded as he strokes her cheekbone, presses his thumb to the corner of her lips; and she swallows, and something shifts, and she's her again; his Beth, kneeling at his side and bringing herself to her knees for him. A small smile catches on his face, which her eyes flick down to see; and then she's smiling, and giggling, and when she closes her eyes to lean her forehead against his Daryl lets himself grin too. “Daryl.”

“Feel good?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathes, laughing again, rubbing a hand up and down his stomach. “God, it was like the first time... it's always like the first time...” She calms herself down, then just lets herself lean there; forehead against his, hands on his stomach, chest expanding in time with his abdomen.

For a while he lets her; he lets himself, and wonders if maybe this should be it; if he should pull her beneath the sheets and turn off the lights and let her wrap herself around his back until the gentle kisses on his spine lull him to sleep. The house is quiet; something of her orgasm has transferred to him, and he feels his eyelids growing heavy, his breaths growing slow.

But then he opens his eyes and sees her kneeling before him and his cock gives a pound and he knows they aren't done yet.

“Baby girl,” he murmurs.

Her head comes up, slightly tilted, a light dancing in her eyes. He crooks his mouth at her; that was one phrase he had been adamant about avoiding when they planned this. But with her so near, her juices drying on his leg, heat building again in her eyes—god, it tastes sweet.

“Yeah, Daddy?” she asks, baring her teeth, adding a little sing-song. He palms her ass as she slides back into it, eyes losing some of their warmth, gaining some eagerness. By the time his fingers brush her still-trembling pussy, he knows she's ready for him.

“You forgetting something, sweetheart?”

She tilts her head further, as if she's thinking.

“I know I turned the oven off...”

That draws a laugh from him; an honest to god laugh that bursts from his mouth to splash against her face. She smiles sweetly, a little confused, and god, he loves her so much.

He takes one of the hands on his stomach; strokes the back of it, gives it a squeeze, and moves it back to his cock.

He sees the recognition dawn on her face, falling into a sheepish little smile as she curls her hand around him again.

“Daddy taught you to share, didn't he?”

Beth shivers, presses up against him until he can feel her nipples hard against his chest. She gives him a stroke, fingers dancing like she can't decide what to do with them. Her other hand comes to brace against his chest, not-so-innocently pressing on his own nipple.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, I can share. I know how.”

“You wanna make daddy feel good now?”

“My hand­–“

“Not with your hand, baby.”

She blinks at him, lips pursing in confusion. He hardens the hand he has wrapped around her skull, cock throbbing as her eyes widen, and with the gentlest pressure begins pushing her head down.

“Daddy...”

“It's ok,” he murmurs. She's level with his hip now, gazing up at him with wide eyes and open lips; he thumbs her chin, and then her lip, and he wonders where this feeling was all his life; of power, and what he can do with it.

Take care of her. Take care of her first, always. But he can get taken care of too.

She looks at him, then turns to his cock, looks at her hand still wrapped around it. He sees the moment she realizes, or wants him to see her realize; her mouth drops open away from his thumb and his hips buck a little, making her hand tighten.

“Oh,” she says. She looks back at him, eyes worried. “You want that? Ain't it dirty?”

Daryl smiles; presses on her head until her temple is pressed to his thigh, a few strands of her hair catching in the pre-cum on his dick.

“'S what Mommy did,” he says. “All the time. You wanna make me feel good like she did, right?”

Inside, he knows Beth is dancing; but she squashes it quickly, biting her lip to keep the smile from her face.

“I do, Daddy, I _do_.”

“Gimme your mouth, then, girl,” he says, slipping his thumb against her tongue, shuddering a little as she presses up against it. “Eat me all up.”

She closes her lips around his thumb and nods solemnly; then releases him and pushes herself up, laying on her tummy and balancing her chest on his thigh, shivering a little when his leg hair rasps against her nipples. She's face to face with his cock now, hand wrapped loosely around the base. Her tongue comes out to wet her lower lip, and Daryl grunts. She looks up at him.

“What're you waiting for?”

“I don't...” she swallows, looking back at his dick, eyes traveling up and down the length like it's the most impressive thing she's seen in her life. Daryl can't help the puff of pride he feels at that. He knows he isn't much more than average, not really; but that wonder in her eyes, the way her mouth waters; it makes him feel like a man the way nothing else has in his whole life. She looks at him again, a little fear in her expression. “I don't know what to do.”

He doesn't know what he wants her to do. He wants her to do something. He wants her to do everything.

“Taste it,” he says. She looks at him, still unsure. He smiles and begins pushing at her head, not relenting until she shifts enough to reach. “Start with the tip. See how you like it.”

She looks at him again, a little fearful, then uses her hand to angle him towards the tongue that darts out of her mouth to lick briefly at his foreskin.

Daryl grits his teeth, doing his best to stay still as she swirls her tongue in her mouth, sampling his taste. It takes a moment, and then a smile breaks across her face. She looks at him, almost gleeful.

“It's good,” she says.

 _Jesus, she could'a been a porn star_ , Daryl thinks, looking at the utter honesty in her eyes as she tells him she likes the taste of the liquid leaking from his dick.

“Take some more, then, go on,” he says, and he doesn't even have to nudge her before she's licking him again—a few more times at the foreskin, then pulling it back to get at the head, little kitten licks that make Daryl fist his hands in the sheets. The touches are so fleeting, bright little sparks here and gone, but they make his whole body tingle as she circles the head, attempting to lick him dry.

“Mmmh,” she says, licking her lips and looking up at him, still smiling, almost laughing. “Daddy, there's so much!”

“Gotta keep going,” he says, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. He nods at himself, licks his lips. “Why don'tcha suck it out?”

And she doesn't even hesitate before pulling the foreskin down again and taking the head in her mouth.

Daryl breathes out harshly, watches her eyes flutter shut as she suckles on his dick, feels how the hand around the base tightens and gives short strokes along with her whims. She pulls off the head with a soft _pop_ , but before he can admonish her she's licking down his shaft, chasing the trickling drops of pre-cum that dribble towards her hand.

“God, Beth,” he whispers.

“I'm doing it right?” she asks without moving her head, so she ends up mouthing the words right onto his dick.

 _You know you are_ , he thinks; but doesn't say; forces himself to shrug, harden himself against the panicked disappointment in her expression. “'S good for a beginner,” he says. “Thought you wanted to be a big girl, though.”

“I want to be a big girl,” she says, low, throaty, pressing her face right up against his cock so pre-cum smears from her chin to her temple.

“Put it in your big girl mouth, then,” he says, chest pounding. “Get it in there, far as you can go, girl.”

And again, she doesn't hesitate; practically wiggles in her eagerness to please as she hitches herself up further and wraps her lips around him and sinks down.

It's strange as fuck to see her playing at being inexperienced. Even when they started this, she'd been no stranger to blow jobs; a fact that still makes the space behind his eyes burn. She wasn't no professional, but she had technique, and she was _Beth_ —all that pure white skin and pouting lips and her young, young face; and she looks younger now; young enough that for a moment Daryl does fall into the fantasy, sees a little girl there with her hair in braids doing her best to suck off her daddy.

And fuck if that doesn't make him buck up into her mouth.

She pulls halfway off him before his hand lands on the back of her head and she looks up, expression worried. Even as she looks at him her lips tighten and loosen around his head, and that alone makes it hard to speak.

“Didn't want you to stop, girl,” he says, stroking her hair like he might a child's. “Means you're doing a good job if I do that. Did I scare you?”

Beth shakes her head, dick still in her mouth. She pushes against his hand, and he lets her lift off, bottom lip slicked with cum and spit.

“I liked it,” she whispers.

“That's good,” he says, rough, gravelly, using his hand to urge her back down, “That's good, baby, good, keep on goin' then.”

He leans back, smiling lazily, giving her the license to play for a minute. She seems to understand; smiles the best she can with his cock in her mouth; pulls off and moves her free hand down to cup his balls, roll them in her palm.

“You're so hot, Daddy,” she whispers, before leaning in and kissing where his shaft meets his sac, kissing back up in loud, wet smacks. She hardly needs his prompting to fall onto him with a moan, sucking on his head for a moment before dipping lower, low enough that he feels the spongy back of her tongue against his glans and he has to take his hand off her head for a moment to keep himself from pushing her deeper. But she's looking at him—holding him by the base and sucking on his cock and looking at him with those wide open eyes and hair wild across her back and his thighs, and he thinks that even the little girl in her might be ready for more.

His hand returns to her head, and she pauses; looks up at him with such total trust that Daryl doesn't need to manufacture the way his hips roll.

“You ready to make Daddy happy, honey?” he asks, gritting his teeth when she nods enthusiastically, sending her mouth up and down on his shaft. “We're gonna go deeper, ok? It's gonna hurt but you can do it, I know you can.”

Beth nods again, eyes solemn. She resettles herself, allows Daryl to move her hand from the base of his dick to his abdomen without resistance.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. She makes a noise in her throat, of fear or acknowledgement, he doesn't know, but he doesn't give her a chance to clarify before he's pushing her down with an unforgiving hand.

He reaches the back of her tongue again and he watches her eyes widen as he goes further; watches her ass wiggle and feels her nails on his stomach as she fights the urge to gag, fails, convulses around his head in a way that makes him moan.

“Aw, shit, darlin', that's it,” he says. He relents, letting her draw up just enough to suck in a few frantic breaths before pushing her down again. Again the convulsions, again the nails in his stomach and the tension in her thighs and he strokes his thumb across her forehead before pushing farther, far enough to hit the back of her throat and make her gurgle.

“ _Relax_ ,” he says, even as he presses harder, keeping her head from bucking back up away from the invasion. It took him months to go as far as this, and even in the beginning she never struggled this much; and somewhere far away he's wondering at himself, at his willingness to ignore the pleas in her eyes, the tears welling in the corners. But they talked about this; she wanted this; she knows how to tap out if she needs to and he can smell her arousal thick and fresh and sweet and he finds himself smirking a little evilly as he forces her down until her nose is buried in his pubic hair.

“Aw, darling, _yes_ ,” he hisses, feeling as she works to control herself, sees the frantic fluttering of her nostrils and the twin tears working down her cheeks; and this time when he lets her up she comes all the way off with a gasp, mouth hanging open and eyes still dribbling as she looks at him in shock.

“Daddy–“

“Can you take more?”

Her mouth opens, as if to speak, then closes, and opens again. He takes his hand from her head and sticks his first two fingers in her mouth, rolling them in the mess of pre-cum and spit, and she can't seem to help the way her eyelids lower and her lips close to suck him deep.

He pulls out with a _pop_ and now she's looking hungry again.

“I think you can take it,” he says. “Gimme that mouth. C'mon.”

He doesn't even have to put his hand on her before she's sinking all the way to the base.

“Yeah, girl, yeah,” he says, circling her neck, her throat, feeling the bulge the head of his dick makes just beneath her jaw. He isn't a huge man but he's large enough and when he presses against his head through the skin of her throat they both moan.

“I'm gonna fuck ya, I'm gonna fuck ya girl; you ready?”

He doesn't wait for her nod before he bucks his hips.

She makes a startled grunt, and another as he does it again, and then there's no pause in the grunting and gurgling as he loses himself in the tight heat of her mouth. He doesn't forget to be careful but he does forget to be gentle and soon he's holding her down as he thrusts, grinding her face into his abdomen before letting her up to breathe and thrusting again.

“Yes, yes, yeah, _yes_ ,” he finds himself babbling, teeth gritted as he watches the mess she's falling into—hair flying everywhere, face streaked with tears and spit and pre-cum and he doesn't miss when her hand starts sneaking down her own body—nor does he let it continue.

She looks up with a whine when he grabs her wrist; watches in distress as he pulls it away from her clit to suck her fingers into his mouth, press the wet digits against his stomach and shove her down on his dick again until she has to close her eyes against the pressure.

“You'll get yours, girl, but I'm gettin' mine first,” he says, practically spits, he's so far gone. His balls are hard, hot and tight, and Beth seems to know, of course she knows; she swirls her tongue against his shaft as she goes down and comes up and lets out a cry of surprise and pain when he grabs her by the hair and yanks her off of him.

“Pull it,” he growls, bearing down on her with the heat of his eyes, “Tug my fucking dick, get me off, get me all over you–“

And she does—lies there with her spine arched, head tipped back, eyes rolling to keep his dick in her sight as she brings both hands to his rock hard shaft to jerk and jerk and squeeze in surprise as he releases, splattering across her face in three thick bursts that coat her from eyelashes to lips.

Daryl falls limp, releasing his grip on her hair and feeling her fall forward, get some of his cum in her hair as his dick gives one last aborted spurt.

He rests his head back against the pillows, panting up at the ceiling; notices only vaguely as Beth pushes herself onto shaking limbs, crawls forward so she can touch his face hesitantly. He feels his own hot cum on her fingertips and shivers from head to toe.

“Daddy?” she asks, voice hoarse, a little distressed. “Daddy, did I hurt you?”

“Oh, girl, girl, no,” he says. He forces his eyes open, sees her hovering there, so filthy and so worried; he gets a shaking hand in her hair again and pulls her forward, kisses her lips, slipping inside with an insistent tongue, chasing his own taste, her taste, the two of them mingled together.

She's pliant as can be as he shifts them; forces his rubbery muscles to harden as he turns onto his side, pushes her to her back and continues kissing her, meeting her desperate moans as his hand settles over her breast, squeezes and kneads, before moving without preamble to the ache between her legs.

She gasps when his fingers hit home, and he grins; pulls his mouth far enough away that he can see her face, screwed up in pleasure as she grabs at him, pulls herself closer, practically shoves herself down on his fingers.

“Oh, Daddy, feels so good­–“

“Told'ja I'd take care of you, huh?” he says, circling her clit before plunging two fingers into her sopping wet. “Daddy's gonna take care of you. You're gonna feel good.”

“Feels so good, Daddy,” she whispers.

Daryl leans forward, covers her body with his, pumps his fingers in and out of her as his tongue works across her face, cleaning his cum from her skin as she climbs higher and higher and it takes less than a minute for her to clench down on his fingers with a cry.

His fingers slow to enjoy the feeling of her convulsions, but he doesn't stop licking at her face; lapping at the mess until she's wetter than she was when he started. By the time she pushes him away with trembling hands, her entire face is a sheen of him.

They lie against the pillows for a moment, facing each other. Daryl's fingers are between her legs, unmoving; Beth's hands lie limp, one on his bicep, the other on the pillows between them. He watches her until her eyes flutter open, breathing deeply as she shivers down to earth.

“Daryl?” she says, voice small, a question. Asking if he's there.

And he doesn't hesitate; pulls his hand from between her legs and curves it around her back, tugging her into his body until they're fused together by spit and sweat and cum.

“Fuck, Beth,” he says, burying his face in her hair, smiling to himself when her arm doesn't hesitate to curl over his waist and hold him just as tight. “ _Fuck_.”

She giggles into his neck, presses a brief kiss to his skin. “Liked it more than you thought you would, huh?”

“Fuck,” he repeats. It feels like the only thing he has left to say.

“I love you, Daryl,” she whispers, kissing him again, soft, like the brush of a wing.

He sighs, holds her tighter, breathes out again. Feels the strength of her arms around him, the slightness of her body, the limbs he could break with ease and the mouth that could shatter him with a word.

They're bound together like this, and he wouldn't change it for the world.

 


End file.
